Let Regret be my Time Turner
by lilpryde
Summary: As Bellatrix tortures Hermione Granger at Malfoy Manor, Draco must come to terms with his hopelessness.


He turned away and leaned a sweaty palm against the stones of the fireplace as her screams grew louder. Draco Malfoy did not want to see the girl being tortured. He had watched too much bloodshed, been the cause of so much pain in the last year, and seeing Hermione Granger, the bloody brightest witch of her age, his own classmate, writhing on the floor at the feet of his dear Aunt Bellatrix…he could hardly stomach the sight.

So, he buried his face in the crook of his elbow, wishing for the nausea to pass, praying to a God in which he did not believe to let the skinny witch die and shut Weasley's mouth. He was still screaming her name from the floor below. He was almost sobbing, maybe he loved her?

But it did not matter. Nothing mattered to Draco in that moment except keeping quiet. His tears could not fall, his mouth would not speak, his hands dare not shake. He felt a tap on his shoulder and flicked his eyes toward the source. It was his mother. His once beautiful mother whose hair was matted and thin, her makeup gone, and bloodshot lines slashed across the whites of her glassy eyes. And she stared at her son, giving an almost imperceptible shake of her head as her lip quivered. He had to look, had to show his aunt and these vile henchmen overrunning his family's lovely home that he was one of them. A ruthless, bloodthirsty Death Eater who got hard watching a Mudblood bleed.

He pushed away from the wall and moved his eyes to the middle of the room as Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus curse. He resisted the urge to drop to his knees at the sight. This was not the girl he remembered. The frizzy headed bookworm sandwiched between Scarface and the Weasel. This woman curling in and out of a jerking, twisting ball of agony was small and dirty and so very brave. She was lying about the sword, they all knew it, but still she fought as blood poured from the shallow cuts on her arms and face, as her head slammed into the floor from a particularly painful spasm and her eyes rolled back. No, this Hermione Granger was a hero.

A hero one curse away from dying on his drawing room floor.

His aunt looked at him, motioned him forward as her snake's tongue slid along her bottom lip.

"Draco…" it was a whispered hiss, and he tried to hide his shiver as he shuffled one foot in front of the other toward Bellatrix. She raked a clawed hand through his hair and pulled him down in front of her victim. Hermione was breathing hard, twitching every few seconds as the aftereffects of the Unforgivable wracked her frame. "Do you see this, nephew?" His aunt was whispering in his ear, and he was repulsed each time her tongue flicked out to caress his ear, his neck. "This…animal…is a toy. An ugly toy to be used and discarded. Take out your wand, boy, and show her what it means to have pure blood pumping through your veins." She was running her nails up and down his thigh, and he concentrated on Hermione Granger to keep from retching.

And she was staring back at him. Her eyes were alive with regret and burning with defiance as he raised his wand with shaking fingers.

"Yes, yes, show her!" His aunt bounced on her toes beside him.

But Hermione did not move. She did not look away from his grey eyes, and he wished his aunt was a yard away so he could tell the girl he was wrong, so wrong. That he didn't know any better all those years. That he would take it all back if he had a time turner. He would dance with her at the Yule Ball and never, ever use that foul word again. He regretted so much…

But he could not do any of those thing. There was no turning back, no matter the consequences of his upbringing or his behavior as a boy. He was a Malfoy, a Death Eater, hated and feared, and he had to punish this…this ugly toy…so his heart and his mother's and father's could continue beating. Because he wanted so badly to live.

He bent closer to her, his chin-length hair hiding his face from his aunt, and he mouthed 'I'm sorry' as Hermione set her jaw and waited for his spell. And then there was a loud pop from the basement, and he was pulled to his feet.

"What was that?" Lucius Malfoy was crossing the room. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" His mother was pulling Draco back to the fireplace as Wormtail left the room to check on the prisoners. Draco's eyes remained on Hermione Granger, the image of her blazing eyes and determined face seared into his brain, when a streak of red hair barreled toward Bellatrix.

Almost unconsciously, Draco raised his wand to fight.


End file.
